


A Many Faceted Jewel

by Kairyn



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: But Sort of Not, Complicated Elf, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Gen, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Nonbinary Character, Other, Semi-Slow Burn, Super Fluid Gender, body image issues, but hopefully a good sort of different, fem!Legolas, it's complicated - Freeform, kinda tricky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...Or Very Complicated Elves and the Dwarves that Love Them.</p>
<p>Legolas is... different. He-or she- they- whatever it is, hate or like or sort of love but maybe don't a Dwarf. Poor Gimli is even more lost than he-she-they are. After all he's not even sure how to address.... er... Legolas. Yes, just go with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this is a strange little thought that popped into my head. A very different Legolas than anything I've ever attempted before so I don't imagine this will be all that long. This chapter especially as I've been trying to figure how I'd write a very different character than my usual. I'm hoping it works the way I wanted it to. They'll be actual interaction with Gimli next chapter.

_Oh why, oh why, did we do that?_ It was such a stupid thing really. Their sense of duty and nobility had gotten away from them again. Ridiculous really. Their Father would be somewhat peeved about it. **Perhaps a bit more than somewhat.**

The twin blades that suited them so well were already sharp as could be but they went over them a few more times just to be sure. They also made certain to gather as many perfectly fletched and sharpened arrows though it was all but inevitable that they would end up replaced by lower quality arrows. But they would like to start with the best they could. _An archer depends on the arrows to be of a certain quality. We would be forced to use lesser soon enough._ **Best not rush it.**

Thoughts drifted back to their Father and the fair elven face almost winced. _Yes, very peeved._ They had only been sent to report on the creature escaping. Not join in on a quest. But really who else was there to go? _At least there is Aragorn with us._ That would be a relief, especially when traveling with a Dwarf.

They were certain the Dwarf would be a problem. After all, Dwarves didn’t understand _normal_ elves. What chance was there that the loud redheaded axeman would be able to distinguish between his selves and other elves? **He will most certainly offend us.** It wouldn’t help that they didn’t get along with Dwarves. _We don’t get along with most elves either._

The one called Prince glanced at the mirror atop the nearby dresser and frowned a little. “We shall have to try and be patient,” he murmured even as he lifted his arms to begin the braids along the side of his head. **Patience is not our best virtue.** The frown grew. “Even still…”

As nimble fingers wove the braids back along the side of the Prince’s head he looked away from the mirror. They didn’t really need the mirror to do their hair. _This is your fault for getting distracted in the first place._

**It is not. Mellain wanted to ask us a highly inappropriate question.**

_She thought we **were** you._

**That’s hardly my fault.**

_You should have simply told her no and then we could have returned to guard duty. The creature wouldn’t have escaped then._

**It is hardly fair to blame me when she was the one that would not let us escape.**

_Since when have we needed permission to escape?_

**You’re the one that wants to be polite all the time. You’d have even had us acting polite to those Dwarves that caused an entire siege to take place!**

_They were not the only cause of that and you know it. Besides, Tauriel liked the one._

**Tauriel and you both have never had a lick of common sense.**

_You act as if we wish to go back to Father and hear his punishment._

**We thought this was his punishment.**

_We should not lie to ourselves._

Legolas grunted a little. **Very unhealthy.** _Truly._ There was a knock on the door to the Prince’s room and he finished tying off his braids. “Come in.”

One of the guards that Legolas had brought along stepped inside with freshly laundered clothing. They wouldn’t have much chance to clean them on this journey. Best start out with as much fresh as possible. “What do you wish us to tell your Father, my Prince?” the guard asked even as he put the small pile on a nearby table.

**No point beating around the bush.**

_The truth would get back anyway._

**He won’t like it though.**

_We can’t help that._ “Tell him the whole of the matter,” Legolas said simply. “We are on a quest to destroy the Bane of Men and the weapon of the enemy.” The guard nodded and gave a slight bow before leaving again.

It only took a few moments for them to finish packing everything that they would need and leave the room. His pack wasn’t very heavy but most of the food and cooking gear would be carried on a pack animal of some sort and not their backs. A good thing as they preferred travelling light. Aragorn wasn’t there when they gathered but he joined them soon enough and then they left, following behind the ring bearer.

Travelling from the Last Homely House meant that for several miles there was very little danger. It allowed their minds to wander ever so slightly to their companions again. Aragorn knew them better than most. They were not worried about him. Nor Mithrandir, who also knew them well. Boromir, well, he seemed a regular man. Probably wouldn’t notice a thing. The Dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin, well, they had decided to avoid contact with that one as much as possible. Inevitable conflict and all that. The Hobbits though, they weren’t quite as sure about them. They’d only met one before and that had the unfortunate inclusion of barrels and orcs and a dragon to distract from the Hobbit.

_Such cute little things these Hobbits._

**Please, do not gush over them the entire trip. You will give us a headache.**

_I do **not** gush. But even you must admit there’s something about them that is quite lovely in a small furry animal sort of way._

**Most people hunt small furry animals.**

_You speak so carelessly but you cannot fool us. We know you find them just as cute as I._

**Slander.**

_Of course, of course. The epitome of denial are we._

“Legolas?”

They turned their attention immediately to one of the _absolutely_ **-not-** _adorable_ **-stop that-** _make me_ Hobbits. Pippin they thought this one’s name was. “Yes, Pippin?”

“Is it true elves can talk to animals?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

Legolas tilted their head to the side slightly. “Many animals respond to our language but if you’re asking if I could carry on a conversation with Bill here, I’m afraid not,” they said gesturing to the pony. Pippin looked a bit put out by that, as did Samwise, but they seemed to brighten again almost instantly as the topic quickly flowed to something else.

_They are a cheerful bunch._

**We are certain that’s a good thing? This will be a difficult mission with many hardships.**

_We will just have to do our best to protect them._

**We are headed for Mordor. We can only protect their bodies. They may very well harden and lose their adorableness.**

_Ha! I knew you would admit it._

There was silence between himself for a moment. **Shut up and leave us be…**


	2. Chapter 2

Gimli didn’t exactly make a habit of noticing elven oddity but being forced to travel with one made noticing some things somewhat impossible to avoid. He was far from an expert in what normal elves were like but he was almost positive the one constantly scouting ahead and then reappearing only to repeat the process was one of the least normal elves he’d ever met. Well, he hadn’t met a lot of elves, admittedly. But everything he had taken for granted about elves didn’t seem to apply to this one.

Well, for one thing, he was never _quiet_. He was always singing or muttering to himself or the pony or Aragorn or Gandalf or the bloody flowers for all Gimli knew. It was almost always in that flitting birdsong elvish he used too. Weren’t elves supposed to be quiet as the wind and stealthy and all that? How could this one possibly be considered stealthy when he wouldn’t shut the bloody hell up? At least he didn’t seem interested in conversing much with Gimli. The dwarf wasn’t sure he could take the elven superiority that seemed to just ooze off all of them. Well, alright, Elrond hadn’t been that bad… but still!

And another thing, didn’t wood elves, like their never-quiet companion, have a reputation of wanton nudity? He was sure he heard something about wood elves dancing naked in the middle of nowhere before. But this one was somehow even more prudish than the hobbits. Not that Gimli was complaining! Last thing he really wanted was an eyeful of pale glowing skin and slender limbs. No thank you, Mahal. He was just fine without it. But even the hobbits had loosened in their prim propriety after a few sessions of washing in a river. The elf however never joined in washing and stood off to the side peering into the distance like some… weird watch hawk or something. That wasn’t to say the elf didn’t wash. Quite the opposite. More than once Gimli had woken up and the elf had clearly wet hair or clothes that were drying by the fire. He just apparently was prudish to a fault. Again, Gimli was _not_ complaining. It was just odd.

He ate like nothing at all, which horrified the hobbits something serious. He barely ate three bites at any one time. It was no wonder the elf was a bunch of twigs under that impossibly pale skin. It was probably more impressive he wasn’t dead… Even elves ate didn’t they? Not this one apparently. That oddity seemed to worry Aragorn as well actually. More than once Gimli had noticed a very disapproving look from the ranger to the elf and said elf would go off on some birdspeech tangent. Aragorn would say something back and the elf would eat perhaps two more bites before getting up. It barely sounded like an argument but then everything in elvish was just too damned pretty to sound suitably angry in Gimli’s opinion. The Hobbits at least scolded the elf for not eating in Westron, not that it seemed to do anything. Bloody elf was surprisingly good at answering without answering anything at all. More than once he’d seen the elf easily turn Pippin and Merry to a completely different topic without even seeming as if he was trying.

Speaking of their elvish companion he was talking… _again_. “There are some animals even my people do not like, Pippin,” he was saying. Oh. Well at least he was talking for a reason. And in Westron. That was an improvement.

“Like what animals?”

“Spiders,” Legolas said with a surprising amount of heat. “They infest our forest and poison it. Constantly we are fighting them.”

“Oh, that’s right. Mr. Bilbo told us about them. Big as horses weren’t they?” Merry inquired. “Must be a right scary thing that.”

Legolas shrugged some. “I suppose. They certainly are not pleasant to look at but fear is different than distaste. Were that they not poisonous even their size would not give us much trouble,” he offered. “But even elves are not immune to poison.”

“And yet you doubted Thorin Oakenshield when he told you him and his company ran afoul of the creatures,” Gimli muttered, although not really trying too hard to stay quiet.

Legolas’ eyes flashed instantly. “We did not doubt he ran afoul of the spiders. It was his intentions we questioned. Questions he would not answer,” he said. “Do not act as if he were a saint crossing our borders.”

“Ya sent them to the dungeons!” Gimli snapped. 

“And he insulted a King in his own throne room. That is the least one would expect for such an outburst,” Legolas replied.

“Enough,” Aragorn interrupted. “We are not here to hash out old grievances but to bring hope to all free people of a future without evil.”

Legolas seemed about ready to argue further but then said something in elvish before darting off ahead. Gimli muttered a bit to himself even as he turned his attention to where he was walking. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought up the Company but it was hard not to when his own father had been a part of the company and the elf was the son of the one who’d thrown them in a dungeon. Not to mention the battle that happened after. Gimli decided it was definitely a good thing that the elf didn’t speak to him more often. He had a feeling that arguments would be far more common if he did.

Legolas, for their part, had already gotten quite a distance ahead of the group and turned their eyes to the landscape sprawling out ahead of them. “Foolish dwarf. We knew he would be a problem…” they muttered to themselves.

_We knew he would be difficult…_

Legolas scoffed some. **Dwarf might as well translate to difficult for all the understatement that is.**

_Calm. We’ll get nothing accomplished if we get angry at everything he says._

**Then he should stop saying things deliberately to get us angry!**

_Father wouldn’t approve of the outburst_ , they warned themselves.

Legolas scowled at the horizon. “We know what father would say. Enough of that…”

_He watches us, you know._

“All the more reason to dislike him,” Legolas said. **We are not a spectacle. Probably looking for things to use against us.**

_That seems unlikely. Perhaps he is just curious._

**We are a curiosity even less!**

_Calm, Brother. Not all curiosity is bad you know. The hobbits’ curiosity does not offend us as such._

Legolas huffed some and glanced back towards where the rest of the Fellowship was trudging along at an almost painfully slow pace. How could they stand to walk so slowly? **That’s different. The Hobbits are cute.**

_And you thought you would be denying that…_

**Stop picking on me, Sister.**

_Stop making it so easy._

**Nuisance!**

“You love me.”

**I’m required to.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I just posted last chapter and was going to sleep when I got hit with inspiration for this chapter... so I decided to get it down and out while it was still fresh in my head. It also turned out a bit longer than the last one so bonus.

The noise was remarkably loud. Like a stone door grinding shut over and over again. Or perhaps a millstone grinding gravel down to dust. It was silent for a few blessed moments. And then it was back! Legolas’ eyes blazed, and he turned to glare across the camp. **I will slit his throat!**

_We cannot murder our companions in their sleep._

**No. We _shouldn’t_ murder our companions in their sleep. We are quite capable of doing it, though! How are we to rest if he keeps making such noise?**

_It is not a mortal’s choice to snore. He cannot help it._

**If I slit his throat there will be no more snoring…**

_Let us take a bath, Brother._

Legolas glared at Boromir for another moment and, as another loud snore escaped, got to their feet. It was better than killing him probably. Though less satisfying. How did a man even make such a noise? And how was the dwarf quieter?! “It is a miracle we haven’t been attacked by wild animals yet,” they grumbled as they grabbed fresh clothes. Well, fresh _er_ clothes.

“Where are you going?” Aragorn asked. 

Thankfully it was his watch currently so they didn’t have to worry about slipping in their self-censorship. They had known Aragorn long enough that they had already trusted him with some of the most sensitive details of themselves. “We are going to bathe and get away from this… racket.” Legolas grabbed their blades since the small river was a little further away than safety would allow. The others had bathed there earlier but had wanted more shelter around their camp than there had been at the banks of the water. 

“Watch yourselves,” Aragorn replied more out of habit than any real concern before replacing his pipe in his mouth.

Legolas just nodded slightly and left the light of the camp behind. The moon was bright enough to find their way through the trees with little problem so they didn’t bother with a torch or anything of the sort. “How can mortals breathe so loudly?” Legolas asked as they made their way through the woods to the bank of the river. “We’re sure we don’t know,” they answered themselves before carefully putting the clothes they’d brought on a rock where they wouldn’t get wet.

Their twin knives went blade first into the soft sand of the bank where they would be quickly grabbed should they be needed. It was doubtful they would be, but it was a precaution that was easy to take. It only took a few moments to shed their old clothes and Legolas set to washing them first. It certainly couldn’t hurt to do. It wasn’t as if there was often a chance to do such things. Plus there was plenty of time. Judging by the moon and stars, it was hours before Sam would be getting up to start breakfast. ‘Most important meal of the day, Mister Frodo.’

“Honestly, they eat so much for such tiny things…” Legolas murmured. “They are used to it we suppose. We would probably vomit if we ate as much as they do. We have no idea where they put it all… Their feet? Don’t be ridiculous ‘Their feet’ honestly, Sister. Well, there’s no other oddity about them proportionally, where else could it go? I cannot believe we are even having this conversation. We need rest badly if this is where our thoughts go… Well, we won’t be getting it with Boromir snoring as he does.”

Legolas shook their head. _And here we were worried about the dwarf keeping us from Reverie…_ Legolas didn’t need absolute quiet to rest, but the pure loudness of Boromir snoring was a bit much even for them. They had no idea how the others managed to sleep through it. They’d have to ask. Maybe there was some trick to it, they thought as they unbraided their hair. There had to be right? Many mortals apparently snored. Surely there had to be some way to deal with such noises otherwise there would be far fewer mortals in the world. It would be difficult to sleep beside someone who made such noise, they thought.

Legolas ran their fingers through their hair to finish releasing the braids even as they waded into the water. It was positively icy, but that didn’t bother them. Such minor things as the temperature didn’t affect elves nearly as much as it did mortals, which is especially good as they were getting closer to the mountains. They were meant to stay close to the bottom of the mountains but even there it tended to get colder quicker.

They ducked under the water and ran their fingers through their hair again. The cold water helped waken them fully and refresh them although not as well as actual Reverie would. Still it was welcomed for even a short boost. Maybe they should just Reverie away from the others where they could get some peace? _Aragorn won’t like that idea._

**Aragorn worries without cause. We can look after ourselves.**

They surfaced again and started to scrub their body clean. There really wasn’t much to use but the sand of the riverbed, but that would still work. They were on a quest to save the world luxuries had been willingly left behind. Although if they had realized how slowly the others would be moving, they would have risked a few more items. Instinctively they had packed as if they were going on a hunt: as lightweight as possible. Apparently they had been overzealous.

Legolas let their eyes drift closed as they washed. “We did need to relax,” they murmured to themselves. “A beautiful idea, Sister… Of course, you work ourselves into such a tightly wound coil we will explode. I just reminded you we needed to relax is all.”

**We miss home… the world moves strangely out here. And the mortals are… different than what we are used to. Aragorn is the only one that makes any sort of sense… help of his upbringing no doubt.**

_Home is more comfortable, yes. But it is not so bad out here. We have enjoyed seeing new places._

**Incurable optimist you are, Sister. I would despair without you.**

_You would shatter into a million pieces without me. You’re too much like Father._

Legolas opened their eyes at that. “Ouch, Sister. Cut to the quick,” they said laying a hand on their breast. 

_We are certain we can recover from such a wound._

**Optimist even when injuring ourselves. It truly is not fair.**

_Optimism is easy. Just think of the best outcome instead of the depressing ones._

Legolas shook their head. **Perhaps we are too much like Father after all.** It was terribly hard to just ‘think of the best outcome’ when you knew that the odds were stacked very much against you.

_Ah, but have we not already beaten long odds? We would not exist if we did not._

**Are we certain that was beating odds rather than just being too stubborn?**

_Does the difference matter?_

There was a moment of silence as Legolas thought about that. Finally, though they shrugged. “Suppose not.”

Suddenly there was a noise behind them. It was soft and if not for the fact that they were an elf they probably wouldn’t have heard it. But they did hear it and whipped around. The first reaction was horror, which switched to rage with mercurial speed. “Now hold on-”

It only took about three steps to grab their knife and pin the dwarf to a tree with one arm across his throat and their knife pointed at his face. “What are you doing here, dwarf? Spying on me?” they demanded.

“No! Mahal, no! I didn’t even know you were out here! Thought I was heading back to camp, not the bloody river!” Gimli said as he struggled against the tree. His feet weren’t on the ground anymore, which was a problem as being held up by his throat made it hard to breathe. Legolas’ grip was surprisingly strong too. Far stronger than he expected the twiggy elf to be.

“So what you just stayed to watch?” Legolas demanded, eyes blazing with fury.

“No! Was trying to leave when you turned!” Gimli said hurriedly. “Honest, Lass, I didn’t wanna see any of it!” Despite himself his eyes started to drift down, unable to help it what with such a surprising sight. He’d never expected Legolas to have… well, rather lovely looking breasts.

Legolas shoved their arm deeper into Gimli’s windpipe. “Eyes up, dwarf!” they snapped.

“Righ’ sorry!” Gimli gasped. “Jus’ surprisin’ is all!”

Legolas narrowed their eyes as Gimli gasped and scrambled. Finally, though they pulled their arm away and let the dwarf fall to the ground. “Go,” Legolas ordered, still furious but not willing to jeopardize the fate of the world over their embarrassment. 

Gimli coughed a bit and got to his feet. This was a far more surprising trip to the bathroom than any other he’d ever had and probably ever would. That was for certain. “Dwarf!” Gimli froze and turned to see the elf’s knife pointed right at his nose and merely centimeters away at that. “Call me ‘lass’ again and I’ll split you nose… to navel,” Legolas said dropping the knife to point to Gimli’s belly. “Clear?”

“Very,” Gimli said before fleeing. He hadn’t wanted to anger the elf in the first place although he supposed that explained why Legolas never bathed with the others. Admittedly he hadn’t gotten (nor wanted thank you!) the best look at the elf’s body, but the breasts had been rather hard to miss. Gimli shook his head as he tried to not get lost this time on his way back to camp. How had he missed that? Legolas must tie them down or something. It was certainly convincing. Gimli would never have guessed. Gimli shook his head again. It was not his business anyway. Though the amount of pure fury on the elf’s face had been equally surprising. And… rather exciting actually. Gimli stopped in his tracks and tried deliberately to erase that thought. Where had it even come from? Probably lack of oxygen. Yes. That sounded right.

Legolas watched the dwarf go before hurrying to get dressed again. “Just what we didn’t need! Aragorn and Mithrandir we know are trustworthy. But the dwarf?”

_We frightened him well enough we think. And he was surprised besides. Perhaps he will not dwell on things he does not understand._

“That may be too optimistic even for you, Sister,” Legolas grumbled as they pulled on their leathers. “And he called us ‘lass’ for goodness sake.”

_I didn’t mind._

“We’re not a ‘lass’!”

_We’re not exactly **not** a lass either._

“It’s far too complicated for a mortal to comprehend,” Legolas said as they grabbed their knives. “Even Aragorn doesn’t fully understand.”

_I suppose so… a shame really…_

**How is it a shame exactly?**

_It’d be nice for someone to understand…_

Legolas froze mid-motion. “…it would,” they agreed softly as they went back to fastening the laces of their boots. “But not very likely.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mention of green haired dwarves is definitely influenced by determamfidd's Sansûkh. I just loved the concept and it has become my own headcanon so it just slipped itself in there so nicely. Also you'll notice I'm going to be focusing more on the interactions in this story more than say fighting and action so I am going to probably skip over most of the battles and such. It's more about exploring this version of Legolas and Gimli than that whole hullabaloo with that ring.

After the incident at the river, Gimli couldn’t help but pay more attention to the oddities in Legolas. With clothes on there wasn’t even a hint that Legolas wasn’t male at all. It was astonishing really. It wasn’t that Gimli was bothered by the revelation it simply… _was_ a revelation. His eyes flicked over their camp to where Legolas was standing on a nearby boulder looking out at nothing. Even when he knew that they were there, Gimli couldn’t pick out any strange lumps or unexplained curves under the archer’s leathers. Well, maybe that was why he wore leathers, Gimli thought, not as much give.

Legolas had been downright acidic to Gimli since the river with biting comments and slights against dwarves in general. Gimli did his best to ignore it, as it was fairly obvious to him that the elf had been more than just slightly embarrassed by the incident. But he was quickly reaching his limit of understanding. It wasn’t as if Gimli had _meant_ to see all that. And he’d done as Legolas instructed and not called the elf a ‘lass’ or made any sort of comment about it at all. Gimli wasn’t that rude. There were quite a few dwarves among their people that were like Legolas apparently was. They decided that they didn’t want to be known as their birthed gender or possibly any gender at all. They were easier to identify with their green-dyed hair, but they weren’t considered any lesser for it. 

In fact, to ignore the wishes of those like that was considered amazingly rude, as such, Gimli continued to deliberately think of Legolas as male. He didn’t much care for the elf, but he wasn’t raised to be rude to such people. He didn’t know if male was truly what Legolas preferred or if the elf preferred nothing at all but he clearly hadn’t liked the female so Gimli would leave it at that.

Of course, now that Gimli knew to look there were quite a few moments when Legolas had not acted as one may traditionally consider a male acting. He could spend bloody hours combing his hair up in the trees when they camped. And people thought dwarves were vain with their hair. Puh, they’d obviously never met Legolas before. And then the way Legolas teased Aragorn was almost… sisterly. It was gentle, good-natured sort of teasing that Gimli was used to from his own sister and very different from the acidic barbs the elf launched Gimli’s way. That little smile that Legolas had when he managed to get a rise out of the ranger softened the elf’s face to where Gimli was surprised he’d ever thought there was a male under those leathers. But then in an instant it would be gone again, and Legolas would look ever a Prince rather than a Princess.

The elf also seemed to dote on the Hobbits more than Gimli initially noticed. Again not something that would be expected from a Prince. Though Legolas rarely answered questions about himself, the elf was more than happy to answer questions about his home and growing things and _singing_. So much singing. Honestly, it was like travelling with a bloody lark or something. More than once Legolas had donated various foraged goods to their dinner and upon noticing the love that the Hobbits had for mushrooms often brought plenty in for the little ones.

Gimli was brought out of his musings when one of the Hobbits questioned what something was. Gimli turned and narrowed his eyes against the sun. “Nothing,” he said dismissively. “Just a wisp of cloud.”

“It’s moving fast… and against the wind,” Boromir said warily.

It was the elf that identified it as a flock of Crebain and instantly they were diving for cover and hiding their camp. They had only just hidden it all away when the flock flew overhead. Though it was hard to tell if they had managed to hide away in time. Birds had very good eyes as well after all. Still, it was a better chance they had hidden away what with the elf warning them beforehand.

Once they were finally gone, the Fellowship moved out from their hiding spots. “The passage south is being watched,” Gandalf said, and Gimli couldn’t help but feeling a stirring of hope in his chest. He had _told_ Gandalf Moria was the better road! He would get to see Balin again! And his Uncle! And no chance of spies! But still Gandalf chose differently. To climb the mountain than go under it. Gimli scowled some and grumbled a few choice phrases. He should have known better than to get his hopes up.

* * *

They had a long road ahead of them still, and the dwarf was still _looking_ at them. It was enough to set Brother’s teeth on edge and an arrow in their hand. Sister had to constantly remind them that a simple accident was not a cause for murder. Luckily, Sister was so very talented when it came to tempering them. Aragorn would not appreciate the murder of one of their companions. Although he had definitely noticed their agitation. 

They’d been forced to explain what had happened if only to get Aragorn to stop pestering them about it. He had been sympathetic to a point but, like Sister stated, it was an accident. It didn’t make Brother feel any better to know that damn it! They _hated_ being seen bare. Always had. 

“Elf.” 

Legolas felt their eyebrow twitch at the gruff voice. They were hoping to avoid the dwarf entirely. “What is it?” they asked despite Sister’s gentle admonishment.

Gimli frowned a little at the short reply but sat down beside the elf princeling. He hadn’t actually apologized for what happened at the river, and Aragorn had approached him a little earlier in the day and said it would probably be a good idea. Apparently, even other elves did not get the privilege of seeing Legolas unclothed. “I’m sorry about a few days back,” Gimli said softly. The others were asleep, and he didn’t want to wake them. He doubted Legolas would be fond of being overheard either. “I really didn’t mean to walk up on you.”

Legolas studied the dwarf that was steadfastly not looking at them. _See, Brother? He’s not so bad._

**He is that bad. He is a dwarf.**

_He’s apologizing. Stop being so sour._

**He stared at us!**

_And we are staring at him now!_

Legolas made a face and turned away. It wasn’t the same, and they knew it. “I know it was an accident,” they said. _Brother…_ It was that warning tone she used when particularly vexed with them. Legolas sighed and nodded a bit. Fine. “I… accept your apology but do not do it again and do not think this gives you leave to tell anyone else about it,” they warned.

Gimli looked incredibly offended. “I wouldn’t do that!” he declared instantly. 

They glanced over at the dwarf again and slowly nodded. “Good. It is not something I enjoy others knowing,” they said.

“I kind of noticed what with your trying to bite my head off,” Gimli said dryly. Legolas cast the dwarf an annoyed look. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something…”

Legolas sighed heavily. Here came all the questions. This was why they didn’t like being seen. They had no idea just how much the dwarf had seen but whatever it was most definitely would bring about too many questions. “Ask,” they said not without some weariness. They knew from experience it was better to get the questions out of the way early rather than deal with the speculation.

Gimli cleared his throat some. He was a little surprised to hear that tone from the elf. Like he had to deal with far too many questions far too often. Really Gimli only had one… “I know ya said ya don’t want to be called ‘Lass’…”

“Indeed not,” they said firmly.

“Is Lad alright then?” Gimli asked. There wasn’t much in Westron’s limited pronouns besides the two but, if he had to, Gimli could come up with something else.

Legolas blinked in utter surprise. Was… was the dwarf actually asking for their preference? That was usually the last thing anyone questioned. After about five hundred other questions that really weren’t their business. “… it will serve,” they answered after several minutes. It wasn’t technically correct either but they had been raised an _ellon_ so it was less offensive by far to be considered male.

Gimli nodded and got to his feet. “Lad it is then, goodnight,” he said as he went back to his bedroll.

“Goodnight,” Legolas replied automatically. That was it? No further prying questions?

**We don’t… We don’t understand…**

Their eyes moved over to the dwarf again. Why wasn’t the dwarf being more… obnoxious? _He is not like we thought…_ Legolas blinked and forcibly shook their head. **Still a dwarf though.**

_A dwarf that has only asked our preference…_

Legolas’ eyes drifted back to the dwarf that had apparently promptly gone back to sleep. “… strange indeed.”

And then the wolves came.


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas stopped and turned to see what the hold up was and was not pleased to see Boromir holding up something he definitely shouldn’t have been. A dreadful whisper filled their minds, and a shiver went down their spine. It whispered such sweet things in such a foul voice. Of being accepted and free to be however they damn well wished and- Legolas threw shut a metal door to that. It was a faint whisper, they were far from where Boromir –and the ring- were, and their minds were strong elven ones. United in rejection, it wasn’t hard to block out the insidious whispering. Legolas hoped it never became any louder. It was easy to ignore when it was faint. 

Boromir reluctantly handed the ring back to Frodo and started back up the mountain. Legolas saw a strange look cross the man’s face and worried. Boromir’s desires were far easier to promise. Already Legolas had heard the man lament the fate of his city. And mortal minds are easier swayed than elven ones. And Boromir didn’t have another to help break through the lies. Yes, they worried very much. 

Across the distance, their eyes met with Aragorn, and they knew that they weren’t the only worried witness. Hopefully, Boromir would remain strong. He seemed a decent sort. He was kind to the Hobbits and had held his own well against the Wolves at the base of the mountains. Legolas turned and continued the climb. Hopefully, he was as strong a man as they thought him to be.

The mountain was a dreadful climb for the mortals and Legolas could not seem to find any sort of easier path for them. They did try. But all of the passes were thick with snow and ice. The weather never really died down at all and blew entire snowdrifts down from higher ledges and into their faces. At night the wood struggled to stay lit and keep them warm. The entire Fellowship had clothing that was soaked through and the cold was even beginning to bite Legolas. They could not imagine how the mortals were fairing if even he was getting cold.

The camp was full of misery indeed and the night made it worse. The temperature dropped harshly without the light of the sun, and the fire was a poor substitute. The heat of each other was the best way to stay warm. Legolas shuddered away from the idea. They could not do such a thing. They weren’t that cold anyway. They were an elf. Perfectly capable of handling a bit of cold. It wasn’t worth pressing close and risking someone being that aware of their body. 

“Legolas.”

They turned to face Aragorn and frowned some at the look he was giving them. “Aragorn, I am an elf. I can handle a bit of cold,” Legolas said before turning back around to look out at the near whiteout conditions they were in.

Aragorn got up despite his reluctance and went over to where Legolas was standing. “Legolas, the distance is unnecessary,” he said in smooth, cultured Sindarin. “Even you can freeze. Nobody will even notice. They are far too cold to take note of what they do or don’t feel on a friend’s body.”

Legolas made a face of distaste. “I’m not comfortable with it, Aragorn. Should that not be enough?” they asked. Their own Sindarin was accented but despite what Elladan and Elrohir said, perfectly understandable. “We cannot do it, Aragorn. We simply can’t. Cold or no.”

“The cold is what worries me,” Aragorn said with a sigh. “Lay on the side of me, then. I already know. Surely it would not be so bad for you there?” They hesitated. Aragorn was right. He already knew about them and their differences. Well, as well as any other knew about them. But they were still not certain how comfortable they would be with such things. Their body was so… “Legolas.”

They glanced over and saw Aragorn giving them a disapproving look. Legolas sighed and then shook their head. They just couldn’t. “No, Aragorn. We will be fine. It is not that cold for us. But… thank you.” Aragorn did not look happy but seemed to know that he wouldn’t be convincing them. With some amount of frustration on his face he turned and went back to his bedroll and left Legolas to their own devices. What did it really matter if they were a little cold anyway? Their body wasn’t good for much but harsh weather it could at least endure.

The Fellowship did not make it over the mountain before the white wizard forced them to turn back. Frodo decided to risk the road through Moria and, though Legolas did not begrudge the Hobbit the choice (for no path was safe at the moment), they were not looking forward to it. Not in the least. Days walking underground without the sight of stars and moon would not be pleasant. If they were honest with themselves, and they did try to be that, walking into a place such as Moria, that had legendary darkness and bloody history, was perhaps more intimidating than the idea of Mordor. If only for the fact that at least, even in Mordor, there was a slight chance to see stars and open skies.

Still, they pressed on and did their best to not think about it as they backtracked towards the ancient dwarven city. The more they worked it up in their minds, the worse it would get. Almost certainly. The dwarf certainly seemed cheerful. The dwarf had not been in the least cheerful about the snow. He had grumbled and cursed, and that may very well have been due to the fact that he, along with the Hobbits, had the worst time of trying to get through it. Legolas had tried to be cheerful for them as good humor could help endure the worst of conditions but that had only apparently worsened the situation? They hadn’t really meant to, and they weren’t certain of it since the dwarf grumbled about everything. How were they to know if they truly offended the dwarf in the first place if his reactions were always the same?

Once they had finally reached the large wall of Moria, though, Legolas couldn’t help but be underwhelmed. Surely this… blank wall wasn’t what dwarves always were so eager about was it? They would never understand dwarves. They had been expecting another gateway like the one for Erebor. Not this… nothingness. Surely there should have been some indication of great wealth and power that Moria had once had? Legolas pushed the thought to the side and just resigned themselves to waiting. They had very little else to do anyway.

It took Gandalf quite a bit of searching to find the actual door, which was admittedly slightly more impressive than the blank wall. But then it turned out he did not know the password so they were forced to wait again. The long time with nothing happening had tension coiling in their bodies, and they would rather try the mountain again. Would Saruman really continue trying to destroy the mountain after so long? It didn’t seem likely. Sure they would have to climb over some snow, but Legolas was more than willing to do that.

_The Hobbits would not survive it._

**You say that as if they have so much better chance within Moria.**

_At least in Moria they will not freeze._

**Everyone knows to enter Moria is folly. I cannot believe the dwarf even suggested it.**

_He seems to think some of his people will be inside._

**He may think so… but did you note how Mithrandir looked?**

_…I did. He does not seem as confident._

**No, he does not.**

“It’s a riddle!”

Legolas blinked and pulled themselves back to the moment at hand just in time to see the shimmering line of the door of Moria crack apart and the stone wall open. Inside was nothing but darkness and Legolas forced the trepidation down. For once they rather hoped the dwarf was right…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moria is surprisingly hard to write... But also key because it truly does make the most sense as to when Legolas starts to understand Gimli better.

The dwarf was, perhaps unsurprisingly but rather sadly, not correct. It took only a few steps into the dank darkness of Moria to realize the folly of having entered it. Dwarven and orc corpses lay scattered across the steps, entirely forgotten about and rotted away to little more than bones and beards, armor and weapons. But they didn’t have time to turn away. The watcher in the water nearly ripped little Frodo and the burden he carried from their grasp, and it had only been due to the creature crushing itself in its fervor that saved their lives. Unfortunately, while it ended itself it also forced their course forward.

Four days journey in Moria. 

The very thought made the rock above seem even more oppressive. Their eyes were all but useless in the dark, and every little scurrying rat sounded like a precursor to goblin hordes. Legolas found it hard to simply breathe. The weight of the mountain crushed their chest down and even if it didn’t they would scarcely wish to breathe in the first place. The air was foul and stale. It lingered without movement like some sort of sickly miasma. And still, if they managed to breathe through the foulness they still had the threat of goblins and orcs.

The slightest noise could possibly bring untold numbers of the vermin down around them. They could not sing to try and take themselves away to where there were trees and stars. They could not rest in a place so full of evil and darkness. They could only move forward. But not at the pace they would want. The mortals had to set a more controlled pace and indeed they did not wish to know the noise that the dwarf would make upon a full run over these massive stone walks and crumbling stairs. But they needn’t worry about that. Gimli was unusually silent and separated himself from the others most of the time.

It was odd and somewhat disquieting, actually. They had grown used to the dwarf and his near constant good humor punctuated by less than sincere grumbling. Well, mostly less than sincere. It was no real surprise that Gimli was unsettled after having realized the truth of this place if it weren’t for the fact that he was, in fact, a dwarf. _He is sad…_

**Dwarves should not be able to feel such…**

_Obviously he is._

**… but he should not.**

Whether Brother meant that he should not because he was a dwarf or because it seemed unnatural for this particular dwarf was unclear even to themselves. They decided to not linger on it. Even if they had wanted to, they found it difficult. Though many of the halls were expansive with columns many stories tall and stretching into natural caverns that seemed to extend for miles, the darkness made it seem less. It felt closed in around them as if the dark their eyes could not pierce were walls of pure black volcanic rock.

They were forced to stop at a crossroads as Mithrandir tried to recall the correct passage and they were nothing but raw nerves. They peered out into darkness and saw nothing. No stars and no fires. Not even the slightly different shades of black of distant objects. It was just darkness.

A hand landed on their shoulder, and they jumped. They glared slightly at Aragorn, who seemed at least apologetic. “You should rest. You have not the entire trip so far,” he said in a quiet voice.

“I cannot,” they replied even quieter than Aragorn. “It is too dark… too foul. I feel any moment some goblin horde may stumble across us, and we shall need to fight.” The whole of Moria felt tense and uncomfortable. Like a bowstring pulled just beyond its limit which could snap at any moment. It was a tension they could not help but echo.

“We may yet escape unnoticed,” Aragorn pointed out.

“They have nothing to fear here,” they said. “There is no sun to keep them hidden. There are no patrols of men nor elves nay not even dwarves to keep them from wandering where they please. It is indeed lucky that goblins and orcs are so poor at construction for there would most likely be even more places infested with their kind in this world.”

Neither man nor elf really paid much attention to the dwarf smoking nearby. They had figured they were being too quiet for him to hear and even if he could that he would be too consumed with his own thoughts to bother listening. But he was able to hear, and he was listening. “I doubt that the dwarves gave this place up to orcs willingly,” Aragorn said.

“No,” Legolas agreed. “They have fought enough wars over this ancient dwelling to know they would never do that. And indeed it is a pity they have fallen. I would do much for even dwarven raucousness right now…”

Gimli’s eyebrow went up even as Aragorn chuckled slightly. “Now I know that this journey has addled you to be saying such things.”

“Most would say I’m already addled to being with,” Legolas muttered wryly.

“Ah, but I know better,” Aragorn replied. “You are just as you should be. But in truth, you must try to relax. You will wear yourself to nothing if you keep on like this. Even your endurance will only last so long.”

Legolas made a face of distaste. The idea of ‘relaxing’ in a place like this didn’t even seem possible. Still, they nodded in consent and allowed Aragorn to pull them away from where they had been standing vigilant. They kept their bow close at hand and their knives resting across their lap even as they tried their best to clear their mind even to get some rest. It took time and effort but eventually they managed to reach some slight form of Reverie. It was just barely restful, but Aragorn was right that they needed to do so. 

Lost to Reverie they didn’t even notice the occasional glance from Gimli. The dwarf was a little surprised honestly. He didn’t think that there was anything in this world that would make an elf, specifically this elf, wish for more dwarves. But apparently an infested Moria (and oh how he disliked that phrase no matter how true) was enough to make even the most elvish of elves want for dwarves. Gimli looked over the staring elf for another few moments before putting him out of his mind and turning back to smoking. He tried desperately to cling to hope that there might be more dwarves hidden here, but the corpses at the doors did not bode well for that. Weariness and sorrow pulled at him, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to go deeper into the ancient kingdom he had once longed to see. Not since he had a sinking feeling of what he would find.

That sinking feeling of hopelessness that Gimli was feeling swiftly changed to heartrending grief when they finally found Balin’s tomb. Though he had been trying desperately to prepare himself, he hadn’t. Not even a little bit. His cousin… He had been buried properly, but that was a sorry comfort. He knew. He had known! But still, he couldn’t contain the sorrow. It was ripped from his very soul, and he couldn’t have kept quiet if he had tried.

Legolas actually had to take a step back. It was such a raw and painful display that they could hardly believe it had come from Gimli. He was being too loud, but they couldn’t bring themselves to try and quiet him. It was doubtful that Gimli would even notice if they tried. Still, for everyone’s sakes they had to move on and Legolas said as much.

But then Mithrandir started to read from a book he had found.

The tale was short but horrifically poignant. It did not take many words at all for the author to share his dread at his own inescapable fate. Legolas felt, even more, the need to flee this place. But Gimli was still wrought low from grief, and Legolas was hesitant to get too near the dwarf. If all could see this pain, then none would question a dwarf’s ability to feel. Legolas opened their mouth to say something when an almighty crash rang out.

Everyone’s attention snapped to the side where poor foolish Pippin was standing with obvious horror beside a well. The crashes continued for an agonizing amount of time, and the echoes took seemingly too long to fade. 

Tension pulled at all of them and Legolas felt like a deer caught within the sight of a warg. Every second built the disquiet further until almost at once and by some unseen signal, it bled away. Nothing but silence had followed the crashing. A close call but not one that seemed to have lasting effects. “Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!” Mithrandir had only just said these words and turned when the quiet was shattered by a distant drum in the deep.

Panic melded almost too quickly into frenzied fighting. It was frightening how quickly the goblins were upon them, but there wasn’t time to deal with such things. Legolas pushed the thoughts to the side and focused only on the task at hand. There were things to kill. Including a huge cave troll. Even putting arrows through the beast’s head hadn’t felled it.

Frodo had been saved from being run through by a Mithril shirt. Legolas barely recalled the story Mithrandir had said earlier about Bilbo having been gifted it from Thorin Oakenshield. But there wasn’t time to dwell on the joy of it having saved their ring bearer. More Orcs could be heard crawling out of their hiding places. They had to flee.

But just as Legolas was about to run through the destroyed doorway they noticed Gimli had stopped. He looked once again lost in grief. “Gimli,” Legolas said. “We must go.”

Gimli did not move. He didn’t even seem to notice he was being spoken to. Legolas put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Gimli,” they said more firmly. That seemed to at least get the dwarf’s attention though he seemed startled. “I am sorry,” they said truthfully. “But we _must_ go.”

Gimli’s eyes flashed. “But-”

“You do him no service in dying here,” Legolas pointed out. Gimli still looked ready to argue but then abruptly ran to follow the others. Legolas sighed a bit in relief and ran as well. They hadn’t really wanted to try and drag the dwarf away.


	7. Chapter 7

The solemn sorrow of Lothlorien was not as helpful to Legolas’ current mood as they had hoped it would be. It only seemed to darken their thoughts further. They had lost Mithrandir. It didn’t seem possibly and if they thought on it too long they felt they might break. Mithrandir had always been a good friend to them. Even when they were but a small elfling Mithrandir had seen how terribly they needed understanding. The wizard had been the first to truly seem able to give it, perhaps because of his own vast amounts of experience. Oh, their father tried. He tried so very hard to understand them. But he could only do so to a point and tried to make up for what he couldn’t with boundless love and dedication. Legolas knew their father would always accept even if he didn’t understand.

Mithrandir however, had taken a confused little elfling into the vastness of the forest and shown him that things were rarely truly what they seemed. That just because something looked a certain way didn’t mean that it was. He’d spoken at length to them about their own strangeness in a way that had finally made sense to them. It was a gift they had never forgotten and even once Legolas was fully-grown the wizard had remained a good friend. That they would never again share walks through woods and long talks about the nature of things saddened them greatly.

They tried to not think of the sadness and only partially succeeded. Lothlorien, for as safe and peaceful as it was, was full of its own grief that did not soothe his own. “Elf.”

Somewhat surprised, Legolas turned to face Gimli. **What is he doing here?**

_Allow me to handle this, Brother._ He grumbled but relented. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to deal with the dwarf at all. Best let the gentle touch of sister lead the way. Causing a fight with the dwarf that had been shown favor by Lady Galadriel in her own wood was a terrible idea. “Gimli. What is it? Does someone search for me?”

Gimli cleared his throat a bit. “Well, I do,” he said. “I wanted to thank you.” He seemed far more awkward than Legolas had ever remembered him being. Usually he just spat out what he wanted or was thinking with seemingly no hesitation.

Legolas tilted their head. “Thank me? Whatever for?”

**Of course he’s thanking us. As well he should.**

_Hush, brother. I didn’t ask you._

“Well, way I see it, you didn’t have to vouch for me like you did. So thank you,” Gimli said with a slight nod.

Gimli saw slight confusion cross that perfect elven face and couldn’t help but note that, the princeling’s eyes were not as harsh as normal. A softer sky opposed to hard ice. “There’s no need to thank me for that,” Legolas said. “Throughout this journey you have acted honorably. We may not always get along but I can recognize that. And once a very long time ago, that would have been enough.”

“Yes, well, this isn’t a very long time ago. And I still thank you. Also… for what you did in my cousin’s tomb…” Gimli added, his voice softening to nearly be unhearable near the end. “If you hadn’t made me… I don’t think I would have left.”

Legolas was quiet for a moment and turned to look out at the golden woods around them. A little stream could be heard in the distance but it wasn’t in direct sight. “I am sorry we did not find better news for you.”

Gimli nodded and the two of them lapsed into silence for several long moments. The dwarf looked over at the princeling again and noticed something for the first time since the unfortunate bathing incident. Legolas wasn’t wearing his leathers and Gimli could make out the curve of breasts beneath his admittedly loose tunic. Legolas hadn’t bound himself. Legolas’ head whipped around and his eyes were icy again. “Why would you notice such a thing?” he asked.

The dwarf was caught off guard. “Wh-what?”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed. “You said I hadn’t bound my breasts. Why would you notice that, Master Dwarf?” he asked in a rather dangerous tone.

“Ah, my apologies I hadn’t realized I’d said that out loud!” Gimli said truthfully. “It’s just the first time I’ve noticed at all. It seemed… odd.”

Gimli watched as Legolas’ eyes seemed to flicker for a brief moment before the prince relaxed and his eyes softened. “You are correct… Elven bodies can heal from most anything. But without giving our bodies a chance to do so even we risk severe complications. I am simply… allowing it.”

“You’re injured?” Gimli asked, slightly alarmed despite himself.

To his surprise Legolas laughed. It was the first time he’d managed to get the elf to laugh at anything at all and it was a surprisingly lovely noise. “Not in the conventional sense,” Legolas said, still smiling some. “But I have been bound for the entire trip. If I give myself a few days then I will be able to do so again without problem for just as long.”

It took Gimli longer than it probably should have for him to understand what Legolas meant. “Ah. Yes, I suppose that for so long it would cause problems…” Gimli knew enough to know that binding for too long could cause lots of problems. “It is good it will have no long term ill effects though.”

“Mm, not if I am careful, no. Elven bodies are more resilient than most believe,” Legolas said, seemingly amused. A stark contrast to when Gimli had accidentally seen the parts in question. Honestly, the dwarf hadn’t meant to ever bring such a thing up again but was glad that his slip hadn’t seemed to have greatly offended the elf. He had come here with the idea of peace. Not fighting. But since he didn’t seem to have greatly offended the elf…

“Why do you hide it?” Gimli asked curiously. “I hadn’t thought that Elves cared about male or female when it came to fighting prowess. Or anything really.”

Legolas grew distant for a moment before sighing. “We do not. But it is not so simple for me. My reasons are my own, Master Dwarf. I would leave it at that for now.” Gimli wasn’t terribly surprised at that answer. It wasn’t really his business but he hadn’t been able to help but ask anyway. They sat in silence for a few more moments before Legolas turned to Gimli more fully. His eyes were the kind soft sky blue that told Gimli that the elf was feeling charitable. “Tell me of this cousin of yours… if it is not too painful. I would like to hear of one who was worthy of a tomb such as that one.”

Gimli was surprised to say the least. His first instinct was to push the question away and not answer but he hesitated long enough to think on it for a moment. It would do no harm for Legolas to know about a dead dwarrow and… perhaps, it would soothe Gimli to speak of a dear relative. If he were home he would already being doing so. Remembering his fallen family with those left behind. But here. Well, he doubted Legolas would be truly interested but he’d asked. And so, Gimli settled into his seat and began to speak. And Legolas listened.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, this chapter has been mostly done for a while... I wanted to add more detail to the time between lothlorien and before Helms deep but I just couldn't get it to flow right so I just skimmed over it.

Legolas, Gimli was surprised to find, was a very good listener as it so happened. The entire time in Lothlorien the elf seemed to be just slightly different. Softer somehow. Oh, certainly, he still had moments of icy sharpness, but it didn’t seem directed at the dwarf very often. And Gimli was beginning to notice the subtle changes that happened in the elf’s posture, eyes, and tone whenever his mood flipped. And it did flip with frightening speed. But most often Gimli noticed the slow but heart-stoppingly lovely smile that hinted at mischief and the warmth that tinged Legolas’ blue-grey eyes and voice. All in all he found the two very different sides to the elf terribly fascinating. He probably shouldn’t, but he did. It was like looking through different facets of the same gem. Very similar but inherently different.

It was a tentative truce between them, but it grew throughout the entire time in Lothlorien. Gimli was surprisingly very glad when he ended up in the boat with Legolas opposed to say Boromir or Aragorn. Both were fine men of course, but Gimli found passing time with Legolas surprisingly enjoyable. Now that they got along better Legolas proved to be quite entertaining. Even that icy sharp wit that had been so vicious before seemed less so now. It even surprised several laughs from Gimli when a perfectly placed quip hit its mark. Not that Gimli had any real qualms about firing his own wit back.

Their truce continued with surprisingly little difficulty. They stumbled a few times when a remark hit a little too close to home in either of them but on the whole they were able to brush the hurt off and continue with things. Of course there was little time for arguing as the Fellowship shattered and they were sent racing after a captured Merry and Pippin. Gimli found that his friendship with the elf had helped him endure surprisingly well after Boromir’s demise and the loss of the Halflings. Even running the whole of Rohan had been easier knowing that Legolas was making sure that Gimli hadn’t fallen too far behind.

Finding Gandalf again had been an unexpected joy although short-lived as the now gloriously white wizard had to leave them. So much happened in such a short span of time that Gimli wasn’t surprised that after the Battle of Helm’s Deep he felt wrung out but good. Legolas apparently felt the same for the elf’s moods were terribly apparent now. Or maybe after watching closely, Gimli had just gotten that much better at discerning them.

Gimli could even now notice when Legolas wasn’t truly paying attention. On occasion his ever-sharp gaze would flicker slightly. It was never for terribly long but it happened with an almost disturbing frequency. Gimli didn’t have a chance to ask the elf about it though as they were almost immediately off to Isengard where they finally found the rascally hobbits that they’d chased for days and nights.

Perhaps it was some mixture of relief after such a harrowing series of events and the copious amounts of drinking that led Gimli to ask, “Where do you go all the time?” 

Legolas blinked as if caught very much off guard and instantly his attention was on the dwarf beside him rather than off wherever he had just been. “What was that, Mellon nin?”

Gimli wished he hadn’t asked now and puffed a little on his pipe and turned his attention to the rolling hills of Rohan for a moment. Well, he _had_ asked no matter how much he wished he hadn’t, so he had might as well go through with it now. “I have noticed many times now, that sometimes your gaze is somewhere else,” he muttered as he looked back to the Elf that had been surprisingly relieved to see him after battle. Not that Gimli had been any less glad, which was surprising for another reason. “It is never for more than a heartbeat, perhaps two, but you seem to be… not entirely with us here in the moment.”

Legolas frowned and his eyes flashed in the way Gimli had come to recognize as distinctly unhappy. Gimli instantly sought to head off the icy displeased comment that was sure to be bubbling up. He held up one hand. “If you don’t want to tell me you don’t have to. I just saw it now and thought I’d ask.”

It was silent for a long time and Gimli decided that Legolas would be keeping this secret to himself. That didn’t bother him really. It wasn’t like Gimli didn’t have his own secrets, like how much he didn’t actually mind riding a horse while pressed against an elf’s slim back. Well, perhaps just one elf.

Legolas turned their eyes to Theoden’s city below and debated with themselves. They were surprised that Gimli would even notice such a thing. Most elves didn’t even notice when they silently conversed with themselves. It rarely lasted very long and so it didn’t interfere with anything and yet somehow the dwarf had noticed. Brother railed against the dwarf instantly, practically shouting in their minds about how Gimli would never understand such concepts and to keep their answer to themselves. Sister was more silent with surprise but also rather pleased with the knowledge that Gimli _had_ noticed.

**He shouldn’t have noticed at all! You’re too kind to him, Sister!**

_He is a friend. One cannot be too kind to a friend._

**He knows too much about us already! What if he were to tell our secrets to everyone!**

Legolas frowned. _Gimli would not do that. He has not said anything to anyone about knowing secrets about our body._

**Simply because he thinks us female!** Brother hissed in their minds. **This is far more than just what is between our legs!**

_I think we should tell him,_ Sister said stubbornly. _If he’s noticed perhaps he thinks it is dangerous. If we tell him then we can assure him that it’s not the case. And if he’s noticed he obviously cares enough about us to do so. What sort of friend does not ask about something that worries them?_

Brother was unmoved in their minds. **If he cares now then he won’t when he finds out.**

_You are ever waiting for Gimli to prove a bad friend, Brother!_ Sister snapped. _In truth, you are the one who is being a poor friend. You are holding us back for no reason than your own fear!_

**I don’t want us hurt again!** Brother nearly shouted. Legolas actually flinched slightly. There was a moment of silence in their minds. **I have never agreed to be his friend, but since you wanted to try, Sister, I have let it be. We do at least get in fewer arguments with the dwarf now that you handle him, I’ll admit. But this is something all together different.**

Legolas glanced over at Gimli who was giving them a glance out of the corner of his eye. He seemed concerned but didn’t ask. Maybe he had noticed Legolas flinch before. _He seems worried, Brother…_

**Let him worry,** Brother said though it wasn’t as convincingly aloof as it could be. It simply didn’t work when they knew perfectly well it was a front. It was difficult to hide one’s true feelings from oneself. Even if that one was plural.

Sister decided, rather against their better judgment, to take handle of the situation. “If I tell you and you take it badly, I will not be able to stop myself from possibly killing you,” Legolas said, turning fully to Gimli. “And I will not trust you again. Do you still wish to know?”

Gimli frowned. He had not expected his question to get such a warning. Not only did it seem unusually serious but also the wording was odd. After all, unable to stop himself was not something that Gimli thought of when thinking of the elf. Still, Gimli took his time to consider. Really, it shouldn’t even matter but despite himself he was terribly curious. He had far more fondness for Legolas than he really should, especially since the elf could have a wicked temper and a tongue that could flay a dragon. 

Legolas waited patiently for Gimli to consider. When Gimli finally nodded, Brother protested. He still did not want to open such a vulnerable subject to anyone that was not family. They had done it before and it had been a painful lesson. One he didn’t wish to repeat. Sister pushed Brother to the side with a strength she rarely bothered to display and simply reminded him if it went badly he could take over. Brother relented albeit not without a hearty amount of displeasure. 

“I do not go anywhere, Gimli,” Legolas said. The dwarf noticed a strange guarded look come over his friend. A look he hadn’t seen since before Lothlorien. “I am speaking… with myself.”

Of all the different answers Gimli could have expected, that was not one of them. “You’re speaking to yourself?” he echoed. He wasn’t sure how it was so terrible. Many people spoke to themselves. It was even a habit in some.

“I do not mean in terms of telling yourself to be strong or to stop being so loud,” Legolas continued. “I have full conversations… with myself,” he said, his voice going quite soft. “Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say ‘ourselves’,” he admitted before Gimli could even absorb the first sentence.

“You mean like the Gollum creature?”

“No!” Legolas snapped instantly. The elf sighed after a moment and nodded a little. “And also yes… in a way. But it is no mental malady caused by foul witchcraft. It has been called such but that’s not what it is. I realize most people cannot have hour-long conversations with themselves and hear other voices debating things. But it is simply the way I am.”

Gimli frowned a little as he thought and brought his pipe up to his mouth. He supposed he could see now why Legolas would be reluctant to speak about something like that. It didn’t make sense to him but then Legolas was strange in many regards. If Gandalf had sensed no magic upon the elf and the elf said it was simply how he’d always been he was inclined to take it on that alone. At least until proven otherwise. “Is it common for elves then?”

“Common? No. Not at all,” Legolas answered. Gimli couldn’t help but notice that the elf seemed very guarded indeed. “In fact, it caused quite the stir among our healers. It is not something I speak of often.”

“Makes sense that you wouldn’t,” Gimli agreed absently. “I admit, lad, when I asked the question I was more thinking perhaps you had some lover back home you were thinking on.”

Legolas laughed some and finally relaxed a little. “No. There is no lover back home, nor do I think I shall ever have one. I’m too different you see.”

Gimli shrugged. “You’re different but that’s not necessarily bad. But if you say it’s no danger, Lad, then I’ll believe ya.”

Brother was shocked silent in their mind and Legolas smiled. “Thank you, Gimli. It means more than I can say.” Gimli nodded a little and brought his pipe up again. The two of them slipped into silence again as Brother tried to understand what had just happened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, the focus here is on Gimli and Legolas so rehashing the entire trilogy wasn't really plot relevant to this version of their story. And Gimli is far more aware than Legolas despite multiple people inside our little elf's head, which I find humorous.

Gimli, although still somewhat confused by the revelations Legolas had given him, found it surprisingly easy to adjust to his newfound knowledge. The two friends didn’t speak on it really at all but Gimli found himself noticing Legolas’ momentary lapses more and more. Along with noticing other things that Gimli would very much keep private- he didn’t really want Legolas to know that he’d had a few dreams about a certain wet Elf half submerged in a river bathed in moonlight.

Instead, Gimli made certain to keep their conversations friendly and jovial if at all possible. They didn’t really have time to speak on anything so deeply personal as silly things like attraction. Things were moving quickly all around them.

Battles were raging and good people dying. And then, quite suddenly it seemed, they were marching off to their almost certain deaths to serve a greater purpose. To ensure the destruction of that accursed ring and their enemy. When Legolas said they would die side by side as friends, Gimli agreed though he realized even as he said it that it wasn’t true. Not for him. Legolas was far more than just a friend.

He had no idea when it happened really that friendship had morphed and deepened but the dwarf wasn’t going to deny it. He couldn’t deny it. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it either. If at all possible, he was going to ensure that they both survived this fight. Even if Legolas was never anything more than a friend, Gimli wanted the infuriatingly complicated elf to survive. He was… special. And not just because he spoke to himself or wasn’t technically a he. There was just something about him that Gimli wanted to preserve, just as badly as he wanted to preserve the three golden hairs he still carried with him.

When the battle was over and they had both survived, Gimli almost could not believe it. Though he’d have gladly given his life to ensure his favorite Elf’s he hadn’t actually expected they’d both make it through. And with Aragorn as well! And all the Hobbits were mostly intact. The eagles had brought back Frodo and Sam but the poor little things were unconscious and terribly ill from all they had endured. 

The world was still tense and awkward under the sudden disappearance of so much powerful darkness. It felt fragile as a newborn lamb and just as shaky on its own legs. Nobody seemed willing to do anything that would jeopardize the tentative peace that was so hard won. They had time now. A future without darkness and danger seemed too good to be true and yet it was.

They gathered in the White City and Aragorn was to be finally crowned King. But not immediately. They had much to prepare for such an event and it would take time for everyone to recover. Especially the Hobbits who would have a place of honor on the day of the coronation, for it wouldn’t even have been possible without their efforts. Aragorn had put them up in what was now his palace and Gimli finally had time to think on his unlikely feelings for the unusual Elf. An Elf that was currently lounging on the rail of the balcony combing out his hair. Gimli couldn’t manage to tear his eyes away as he tried –futilely- to pinpoint the precise moment dislike had turned to friendship and then friendship into love. He was coming up very empty. Those moments didn’t seem to truly exist. There was no one moment to pinpoint.

Slowly, through nothing that Gimli could actually place, the Princeling had been changing in his mind. It wasn’t that Gimli knew Legolas better now, although that was certainly part of it. No, just knowing what he did about the Elf wouldn’t have changed how Gimli viewed his companion. That the venomous barbs that Legolas could unleash no longer seemed to hurt and instead could easily be brushed aside with a laugh was not something simple knowledge would change. No, it was a fundamental change. Legolas had his temper, true enough, but Dwarves were perfectly accustomed to tempers. Gimli appreciated this graceful gilded creature could snap and bandy words as well as any dwarf. He had a different way of going about it, with more cold aloofness rather than fiery bluster, but he was no less capable. Gimli even found it a touch refreshing now where before it only annoyed him to no end. 

The dwarf frowned around his pipe. Or was it that when he’d somehow slipped from friendship down the slippery slope of love he’d found a different appreciation for elvish temper? It was impossible to say. 

Perhaps he should speak to Aragorn about it. The soon to be king knew far more about elves than Gimli could claim to know. But, he was also very busy with his new duties. This seemed unnecessarily… domestic and private to worry Aragorn over. Although, if Gimli was being honest he might as well admit that their friend had been giving them sly glances now and then since they left Rohan. Probably best to not encourage such reactions really.

“What are you thinking so deeply on, Mellon-nin?” Legolas asked.

“You,” Gimli answered without really thinking about it.

“Me? What about me?”

Gimli cleared his throat and shifted his position. He wasn’t quite willing to blurt out all he’d been thinking. He didn’t understand it himself yet and he didn’t want to ruin their friendship. He had to come up with something else. “Well, I was just wondering how many knew about you,” he said gesturing to the elf with his pipe. Legolas frowned some and his eyes went icy cold with displeasure. Best, try and damage control. “You said it was complicated why you bind yourself does that mean not even other elves know?” Gimli added quickly.

There was a long silence as Legolas studied his comb in his hand. “Not many,” he said finally. He sighed and tossed the comb across the distance and Gimli fumbled a little to catch it. He was confused but looked down at the comb he’d caught in his hand. It was a strange mix of dark wood and some smooth almost gemstone-like surface that appeared white but shimmered with dozens of colors in the light. It was almost like white opal but Gimli knew his stones and that wasn’t what it was. Carved into the wood amid different embossed sections of the not-opal were figures. On one side was an elf maid in a flowing gown of some sort that formed the inner edge of the comb and meeting the maid halfway was a male elf wrapped loosely in a cloak that mimicked the gown of his companion.

Gimli turned the comb over and saw the carving repeated on the other side. He looked up and saw Legolas studying him carefully. He wasn’t quite sure what the comb was supposed to mean in the least. It was pretty and well crafted but that was to be expected from a Prince’s comb. “You didn’t get a very good look at me in the river, did you?” he asked finally.

Still somewhat confused, Gimli shook his head. “I told you, I wasn’t there to spy…”

Legolas nodded and turned to look out at the stars again. “I bind myself because most prefer to see me as a male. I was raised that way and even named as a male because that is what it was thought I was.” Gimli frowned a bit more. That didn’t really make sense. He knew that Elves were… odd, but even they supposedly had quite easy ways of telling one infant’s gender from the other. The dwarf got up from his seat and brought the comb back over to where Legolas was sitting. 

There were several moments of silence as Gimli held out the comb and just waited for Legolas to explain. Surely he would give something more. Legolas had that abstract look on his face of talking with himself and Gimli just waited patiently. Obviously he was having some sort of debate about the topic. Finally, Legolas turned and took the comb back. “My body was quite malformed when I was born,” he finally said as he turned the comb over in his hands. “It has happened on occasion throughout Elven history. It’s not quite certain what causes it though almost all, myself included, were born quite early so that may have something to do with it and there are other theories besides. Many very famous elves had the same condition when they were born although it is not often recorded. Most consider it not worth mentioning. As you said, gender doesn’t matter as much to us. 

“When I was born, several healers thought that I was a boy and could be fixed when I was more fully grown. They told my father this and so that was how I was brought up. When I reached adolescence however, it became obvious that I was not quite as much a male as had been thought. Father wouldn’t subject me to the rather involved healing rituals to become truly male unless I wanted it and I couldn’t decide myself. I had been raised so long one way it was hard to say which I preferred. Some days I could not fathom being seen as a male but others I hate that my body isn’t…” Legolas broke off there and his eyes went back to the comb. “So you see… that is why I do not allow any to see me and why I will never have a lover. I am far too… unappealing for such things.”

Gimli frowned. “Who told you that?”

Legolas laughed a little though it didn’t sound cheerful in the least. “Nobody told me. It’s simply the truth. I don’t need people to lie to me, Gimli. I am malformed and disgusting. It’s just how it is. I hate it when anyone sees how grotesque I am.”

Though he wasn’t sure how Legolas could talk about himself like that, Gimli was rather affronted by it. “Now just a minute, you’re not grotesque!”

Legolas quirked an eyebrow. “You haven’t seen me clearly. Nor will you.” Gimli wanted to protest but Legolas didn’t give him the chance, “Enough of this. It is a depressing topic and I’d rather not continue on with it. Besides, it is late and we should retire.” The elf didn’t really give Gimli a chance after that either and left to his own room, which shared the large balcony. Gimli scowled at the elf’s back. Of all the things he thought might have been the reason for Legolas’ binding this hadn’t been it. Nor had he considered the possibility that the frankly awe-inspiring fighter and quick-witted prince would have low-self esteem. Perhaps talking with Aragorn wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another puzzle piece in place. If it's not obvious what I was alluding to up there, basically, Leggy is a hermaphroditic Elf born with mishmashed sex organs. **I say Hermaphrodite!Elf is a thing now!**


End file.
